


Midnight in Reykjavik

by relucant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Russian Castiel, hostels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9140965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relucant/pseuds/relucant
Summary: Cas wakes up tired and annoyed to the creak of the shitty bedsprings for what feels like the hundredth time that night. He’s about to roll over and put the pillow over his head when he hears a soft intake of breath above him, followed by an aborted groan. It certainly isn’t the strangest sound he’s ever heard someone make in their sleep, so he doesn’t think much of it until it registers that the bed springs are creaking in a distinct rhythm, accompanied by a fairly familiar sound of skin on skin.Cas’ mouth goes slightly dry as the sleep-cobwebs clear from his brain and he realizes who it is that’s definitely-not-sleeping on the top bunk.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from an [old house track](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UEF2qNkGp80) that I think was the impetus for my itch to visit Iceland in general. Short tumblr ficlet based my weird experiences in hostel life.
> 
> Happy New Year! Dear 2017, remember, this fuckery is not a competition.

Cas wakes up tired and annoyed to the creak of the shitty bedsprings for what feels like the hundredth time that night. He’s about to roll over and put the pillow over his head when he hears a soft intake of breath above him, followed by an aborted groan. It certainly isn’t the strangest sound he’s ever heard someone make in their sleep, so he doesn’t think much of it until it registers that the bed springs are creaking in a distinct rhythm, accompanied by a fairly familiar sound of skin on skin.

Cas’ mouth goes slightly dry as the sleep-cobwebs clear from his brain and he realizes who it is that’s definitely-not-sleeping on the top bunk.

 _Dean_ , the guy’d introduced himself when Cas staggered in earlier that afternoon. He’d stumbled adorably over _Castiel_ and gave up completely on _Krushnic_ before Cas took pity on him. They’d only exchanged the token pleasantries endemic to hostel conversations -- _where are you from, how long as you staying, are you just traveling,_ etc -- but it didn’t take longer than that for Cas to appreciate the autumn-brown of Dean’s hair and eyes the color of leaves, nor the sprinkling of freckles over cheeks and lips that...

...that are indisputably bitten shut barely a foot from Cas’ head, based on the hushed staccato of Dean’s breathing.

Before he even quite realizes it, his hand is sliding under the waistband of his sleep pants and wrapping around his cock, already hard and leaking. Years of intermittent travel had honed his skill in silence much more keenly than Dean’s, and he keeps his breathing deep and even as he runs his thumb down the vein on the underside, leaving a trail of precome.

Cas tries not to think of how creepily he’s perving on his bunkmate; he’d spent enough time in hostels to be well aware that sometimes, you’ve got to take advantage of any pretense of privacy when you’ve got it, but that was miles apart from intentionally _listening_ to said private time, and then joining in without their knowledge.

But Dean’s getting less and less careful, and the little _ah-ah-ah_ ’s coming from the top bunk are making Cas’ cock throb in his hand.

There’s a shift in the rhythm overhead, and Cas freezes, but then there’s the sound of feet being drawn up the sheets as Dean bends his knees, and then the wet sound of a finger being sucked into his mouth.

 _Господи боже_ , Cas thinks, slipping back into his native tongue. _Jesus fucking Christ_.

Cas closes his eyes and just listens, imagining Dean’s finger sliding down his chest, pausing to pinch his nipples, before dipping between his legs. With the next croak of the springs, Cas pictures Dean spreading his legs and tilting his hips, until his spit-slick finger can tease at his hole.

“Shit,” Dean murmurs, barely audible. “Oh, fuck.” He sucks in a sudden breath, and Cas can nearly _see_ Dean’s fingertip just barely slipping inside.

Suddenly there’s a choked groan and the bed goes silent for a second, followed by a long shudder and a sigh. Cas doesn’t have enough warning before he’s coming with a strangled gasp, spilling over his fingertips.

 _Oh, shit_ , Cas echoes silently, as the sleepy haze of his orgasm gives way to blind panic. He stays as still as he can, forcing his breath in and out in an even cadence, not daring to even pull his hand from his pajamas, where come is quickly drying into an unpleasant crust.

But there’s no indication from above that Dean heard anything, only an audible stretch, and the sound of him rolling over and pulling the covers back up. Cas finally begins to relax, his breathing relaxing into its natural rhythm, when a smug-sounding whisper floats down from above.

_“Sweet dreams, Cas.” ___

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://relucant.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/relucanting).
> 
> I'm nice.


End file.
